


Ned Didn't Know

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Mentions of past abuse, Other, Unbeta'd, promptfill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU- Ned trying to cope after Sansa eloped with Jon to escape getting married to Joffrey, preferably in the book verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ned Didn't Know

**Author's Note:**

> requested by thewolfwholived.

When he heard the words “The Neck”, it clicked for him.

Not that he was willing to acknowledge it at the time. He clung to whatever doubts he could in order to keep himself sane as he rode North. It had to be a coincidence. It had to be because of how Greywater Watch was near-impossible to infiltrate. It had to simply have something to do with Howland’s strange son and Bran. Nothing more than that. Nothing. Surely.

But even so, he could hear Catelyn’s cries in his head. “You never should have brought him South!”

He’d done it after that fight Arya and Joffrey had, when Cersei Lannister tried to demand the head of the girls’ wolves. He’d written the Wall desperately, hoping there was still time. That it would reach them before Jon took his vows. That his son would come. The girls needed a protector. There was greater risk, it seemed, of the girls being hurt by the Lannisters than anyone discovering the truth about Jon. Robert was too focused on that girl across the Narrow Sea anyways. He couldn’t sacrifice the girls’ safety. Couldn’t risk it. They needed Jon.

It seemed a blessing from the Gods when Jon was able to ride south. Ned tried to preserve a low profile for him. It wasn’t uncommon for courtiers to have their bastard sons serving them at court as guards, he discovered. Cersei Lannister voiced slight worry over Jon threatening her son, but Robert silenced her.

At first, it seemed perfect. Jon seemed more focused on Arya, occasionally coming to Ned with concerns about his younger daughter running about the palace grounds and even the city unsupervised.

Jon and Sansa were never close. This is the last thing that could have happened, surely.

Jon started coming to him with concerns about Sansa, though. About certain interactions she’d had with Petyr Baelish, with Sandor Clegane.

His complaints about Joffrey were the most numerous, though. They increased in frequency and vehemence as time went on.

After a year, it reached the point of impudence on Jon’s part. “You must end this, Father!” Jon demanded one day in Ned’s office.

Surprised at Jon’s tone, Ned stood. “Sansa has said nothing.”

“Sansa won’t say a word! She sees it as her duty! She convinces herself that there’s nothing wrong! She doesn’t want to believe she’s tied to a monster!” Jon insisted. Then he glared. “Or that you would give her to one.”

At the time, Ned had been so enraged that he cast the lad from his presence, threatening to send him back to the Wall. He would never forget the look on Jon’s face. The boy grew up trusting him, respecting him completely. But there was disappointment and fury in Jon’s eyes that day.

The threats didn’t stop Jon from coming to Ned again and again. But he thought it typical protective big brother instincts. Sansa seemed to enjoy court. She’d made dozens of friend, including the girls of House Tyrell, and one of the young daughters of Prince Oberyn the Red Viper. She was always off somewhere, attending some sort of function with various ladies of the court. She also spent plenty of time with Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. She was a shining star in the Red Keep, popular and well-liked even by the people of the city.

It was on the day Sansa first bled that he began to pay heed. His daughter, who had once gushed about the day she could finally wed her gallant prince, tried to burn her bloody sheets. She nearly set the whole bedchamber ablaze and destroyed most of her wardrobe in the process. They’d found her weeping and desperate.

When the fire had gone out and she’d calmed down, Ned took her aside and asked her, “Sansa, do you not want to wed the prince?”

“I—I—I am loyal to my beloved Joffrey. I am proud and honored to unite our families.” She’d insisted.

He thought at the time it was merely basic nerves. That she was afraid more of marriage itself than her intended. Surely she’d tell him.

But she wouldn’t, he realizes now. Because by that point, it was too little, too late.

He should have called an end to it when Cersei and Robert came to his chambers that very day, smiling and somehow aware of the “happy event of Sansa’s flowering”, as the Lannister woman put it. Once hostile to him, Cersei suddenly seemed incredibly eager to unite their two families “as soon as possible.” They wanted the plans rushed.

“Spare no expense,” said the woman whose husband and king were indebted to her father to the tune of three million gold dragons, “In arranging the grandest wedding imaginable as quickly as possible!”

Robert seemed enthusiastic about it as well. “We can finally cement the alliance that should have been twenty years ago!”

Ned felt, after their heated fights over Daenerys Targaryen, that he couldn’t exactly say no.

Jon kept begging him. But things were too tense, too fraught with both Robert and the Lannisters, to jilt the prince now. “Sansa will be queen someday, Jon. She’ll be fine.”

He knows now that he should have noted his daughter’s lack of enthusiasm. He looks back now, on the day he visited her during one of her dress fittings, saw her, stunning in ivory silk and silver lace, and noted her beauty with pride. She’d thanked him. But there was none of that sparkle in her eyes. The one he used to see when she was happy and modeling a new dress as a girl.

Then something changed when the rest of the family arrived in King’s Landing a moon’s turn before the wedding. All of a sudden, all of his children, save for Robb (who had remained behind at Winterfell), were more distant with him. They spent most of their time together, whispering in secret. Bran was especially hard to reach. When Ned tried to probe him about his newfound friendship with the Reed children, his second-youngest son was oddly tight-lipped. Jon stopped coming to Ned’s office every day to protest. Ned thought things were getting better.

Now he realizes he didn’t see the signs.

It was literally a week before the wedding. Just a week. To the day. And a shriek coming from Sansa’s bedchamber caused everyone to run to her quarters. Or, rather, everyone but Jon, Bran, and Jory. He didn’t notice it at the time. No, all of them were preoccupied with another absence: that of his eldest daughter, absent from her bed. All that lay on her pillow was a single blue winter rose.

Ned nearly fainted when he saw that. Lyanna, he thought. It was Lyanna all over again.

Some of Sansa’s clothes and things were missing too, including all of her jewelry. As were Jon, Bran, and Jory, and their things. A fair amount of gold was missing from Ned’s purse as well.

They searched around town and discovered that jewelry matching that of Sansa’s collection had been pawned off on a vendor by a man they couldn’t find. Jon, Sansa, Bran, and Jory’s horses were all still in the stables, so they tried to find a horse vendor who had sold steeds recently, but none could help them. It seemed the four of them had vanished.

They questioned Arya and Rickon. Rickon finally broke and told them they said they were heading to Gulltown.

It took four days for them to realize that Rickon’s “confession” had been rehearsed. He’d planned on “breaking” and telling them to head for the Vale. Just to give them more time.

Of course, with the crown prince’s intended missing, the crown itself got involved. Robert, Cersei, and Joffrey all ranted and roared.

“That bastard! Stealing my betrothed!” Joffrey shrieked, “If your bastard deflowered her, Lord Stark, we’ll have to have them both executed!”

It was then that Ned knew he had to find them without the crown’s help. Realized what a mistake he’d made. Knew that this was his doing.

He almost didn’t trust Varys when the Spider came to him days later and informed him that one of his “Little Birds” spotted them in an inn and overheard a conversation. “It seems they are heading North, Lord Stark. There was mention of The Neck and Greywater Watch.”

Ned had taken off at once without informing anyone, making his men ride day and night, practically nonstop. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.

But he knew it was.

Howland Reed once trusted him with a special secret guide to locating and getting to Greywater Watch. It was a symbol of trust, an exchange. The truth about Lyanna for the secrets of the ancestral seat of House Reed. When Ned finally arrived, late at night, he found the porticullis closed.

Howland himself came to the gate and stared at him sadly through the bars. “Ned, I’m so sorry, but… I can only permit your entry if you agree to come in alone, unarmed.”

Eddard Stark has never been a violent man, but he railed at his friend, this traitor, for half an hour or more before finally unsheathing Ice and handing it to his squire.

But when the porticulis shut behind him, he grabbed Howland by the collar and pushed him up against the wall of the gate. The Reed guards, small but quick, almost attacked him, but Howland commanded them to cease. He looked at Ned with sad, moss-colored eyes, and sighed.

“You must rest, Ned. I imagined you’d show up soon enough. We have quarters prepared, and you can see your children first thing in the morning, I promise you.”

“I will see them now,” Ned railed at his friend.

“Father?”

Ned dropped Howland and turned to find Bran in the middle of the courtyard, gazing at him, clinging to the shoulders of a green-eyed young lady who Ned knew upon sight must be Howland’s Meera.

Seized with relief and concern, he hurried to his son and seized him. “Are you alright?! What happened?!”

His boy sighed. “We’re all fine, Father. All of us. And… all that happened is… what ought to have happened.”

“No.” Ned wanted to weep. He thought of Benjen, who once thought he too was saving a sister from a Baratheon. “There was another way. Bran, please…”  
“It’s too late, Father,” Bran told him.

At this point, Ned is still in denial. He tells himself it’s Jory. It’s Jory he’ll find with her.

He demands to see his daughter, find his daughter. He can’t let anything happen to Sansa. There’s still  a chance he can send Jon to the Wall. Sansa, though…

“Father, let me explain…”

“TELL ME WHERE SANSA IS!”

He’d never screamed at Bran before. He sees his son, even still in his embrace, shrink back a little. An angry expression comes to Bran’s features.

“Fine,” he practically spits, “Since you need to be forced to see things. Great Keep. East wing. Top tower bedchambers.”

He tells himself as he charges past the Reed Household that he will kill Jory Cassel. He will. He will.

But when he comes to the chamber doors, he pauses and opens the door carefully. He wants to catch the traitorous, lecherous shit by surprise. He can’t do that if there’s a solar between him and the bedchamber and they hear him coming.

There is, and he finds that the bedchamber door is locked. He hurls himself at it and breaks through, stumbling and nearly falling to the ground. He stops himself just in time, takes a deep breath, then looks up.

Huddled in the green-draped, four-poster bed, with bare, shaking shoulders, is his eldest daughter.

Bare chested, leaning over to light a bedside candle, is Jon Snow, looking at him with the fierce determination Eddard once saw in Lyanna.

And the wall of doubt that kept him from accepting the obvious crumbles. And so does Ned. Suddenly, he feels the week he’s spent riding nearly nonstop. He feels the days and nights of panic. Most of all, he feels the truth upon him, a weight more crushing than even his exhaustion. The world goes black.

He wakes in a warm bed, draped in green velvet. A tapestry bearing the black lizard-lion of House Reed hangs on a nearby wall. A serving wench rises from a chair across the room. “Lord Stark, you’re awake!”

Ned makes himself sit up, rubbing his head. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, My Lord.”

The memories return. Ned is suddenly gripping the furs tightly and sweating. He’s horrified, angry. The betrayal. The danger. The truth. Oh gods, the truth.

“Lord Stark, you must calm yourself! You’re still weak!”

“BRING THEM TO ME!” He cries. “NOW!”

She brings him a maester and several guards as well. Despite being a small folk, the Crannogmen subdue him easily. He is forced to take milk of the poppy. He blacks out again.

When he wakes, he feels stronger, more in control. He lies in bed, feigning unconsciousness for a while so he can think without interruption. He tries to control his panic.

Jon and Sansa have shared a bed. Likely married. Married here. The home of Howland Reed. Howland Reed, who had sent his children to Winterfell eighteen moons prior to foster under Catelyn and be companions to Robb and Bran. Howland Reed, the only other man in the world who knows the truth. Or so Ned had thought. Howland had betrayed him.

It will not be long before the royal family comes. If Varys hasn’t told Robert and Cersei already, he will soon. And then what? Either they arrive to discover the crown prince’s intended was wedded and bedded by her bastard half-brother, or they arrive to discover that Ned has been lying and hiding a Targaryen heir all of these years. A Targaryen heir who has once again stolen a Baratheon bride, wedded, and bedded her.

How could they do this? Ned cannot fathom it. They’d doomed them all.

He tries so hard to think. So, so hard. He has to think of something. Anything.

There’s a knock on the door. He hears the serving wench get up and open it.

“Lord Brandon! Your father is—“

“—No longer sleeping. He’s faking it. Leave us, please. Don’t fetch anyone until I call for someone. Meera, can you seat me beside him and wait outside?”

“Sure.”

Ned sighs, gives up, and opens his eyes to watch Meera Reed drag a chair over to Ned’s bedside and deposit his son in it. She departs quickly, closing the door behind her.   
Ned stares at his middle son. Bran stares back, firmly. Ned wonders where his little boy went. Who this stranger is. He sits up.

“Explain.” He says, somehow knowing Brandon will answer.

“Easier said than done. There’s so much. But I suppose it begins with this.” Bran pats his motionless legs. “How this happened.”

“You fell.” I encouraged you to ignore your mother’s advice and keep climbing, Ned thinks, guilt seizing him.

“No, I was thrown. By the Kingslayer. I saw him with the queen. They’ve been lovers for years. Decades. All of her children are his.”

Ned feels ready to faint again. His blood boils. Before he can say a word, though, Bran holds up a hand.

“Now is not the time. You’re afraid for us, I know. But I promise you, we didn’t do this on an impulse, Father. What’s more important at the moment now is what happened after I woke. I began having visions. Jojen came along and explained them to me. It’s called greenseeing. It took me forever to remember what happened when I fell, but I began seeing things from the past, from the future, things that were happening hundreds of miles away. You probably realize by now that we know about Jon. But it wasn’t Jojen or Meera or Lord Howland who told me. I saw it. I saw what happened that day, in the Tower of Joy. I saw the blood and smelled the roses.”

Ned closes his eyes, clutching his heart. “And?”

“I saw how Joffrey treated Sansa, too. Heard the things he would mutter to her when she was on his arm. I saw their future together. I saw Jon trying to tell you. I saw you blinding yourself to it. And I saw a better future for us.”

“By drawing the rage of all of House Baratheon down upon us?!” Ned demands, furious, “Do you realize what you’ve done?”

“We all do, Father.”

“You, Sansa, Jon, Arya, Rickon… You’re children! You have no idea!”

“Not just us, Father. Robb and Mother know as well.”

Ned freezes, looks at his son in amazement. “…Cat? But she gave no—“

“Mother can hide things well enough if given cause. And she had cause.” Bran sighs now. “This has been a long time in the making, Father.”

“And you told me nothing?! You deceived me?!”

“You deceived all of us.”

“To keep you all safe!”

Bran hangs his head. “The same reason we kept things from you. After you killed Lady and rebuffed Jon repeatedly, we knew it couldn’t be helped. Especially after Sansa’s flowering. At the first opportunity, the Lannisters will finally do away with Robert and crown Joffrey. The only reason they haven’t by now is because they wanted to secure the girls and get rid of you properly. We had to keep you from learning too much about Jon Arryn’s death. Or, rather, learning what Petyr Baelish wants you to learn.”

Ned is crushed. His family trusts him so little. He supposes he can’t blame them, though. He thinks back on his time in King’s Landing now, and the signs are all there. All of them. He should have seen it. All of it. He shakes. “We’re still doomed. All of us.”

“…Not exactly. As I said, we’ve been planning things for a while.” Bran sighs. “I think… I think it is time you spoke to Jon and Sansa, Father. Meera!”

Sansa and Jon are summoned and Bran leaves. The newlyweds sit, side-by-side, next to Ned’s bed. Eddard looks closely at them both. Sansa looks sad. Jon looks angry. They hold hands, Ned notices. He’s still so confused, but he knows now that there is affection there.

“What is happening?” He asks them, finally. “Why have you done this? You’ve doomed us all!”

Sansa shakes her head sadly. “Mother left King’s Landing with Arya and Rickon the same day you did. They’re in White Harbor now. As we speak, ravens carrying messages exposing the Lannister treasons are flying to every major keep in Westeros. If or when a royal party reaches the Neck, Robb and the army he’s called will be here, waiting for them. In a few days’ time, you, Jon and I will be in White Harbor. Mother will set off for Riverrun, you and Rickon will be heading back to Winterfell, and Arya will be sailing to Sunspear. Jon and I will be sailing off to Slaver’s Bay.”

“Slaver’s Bay.” Ned replied, blinking, trying to recall what he knew of the place. Three cities ruled by slave-masters. What would they want there?

“Yes. Meereen to be exact. Awaiting us there is Daenerys Targaryen.”

“You can’t honestly believe the stories about her and the dragons…”

“We do,” Jon says shortly, “We’ve seen evidence. Over the last couple of years, she’s conquered and taken control of Slaver’s Bay. She has three dragons and an immense army. And she’s eager to meet her long-lost nephew.”

Ned’s hands tighten into fists. “Are you mad? We were part of the alliance that toppled her father! They say she killed her brother Viserys! If she wants the Iron Throne, she’ll kill you for being a threat to her claim!”

“If she wants the support from five of the Seven Kingdoms, she won’t. And that’s what we’ve offered her,” Sansa informs him, “The Martells seek vengeance on the Lannisters and the Baratheons for what happened to Elia Martell. The Tyrells were Targaryen supporters who want a grandchild on the Iron Throne. I am married to Jon and connected by blood to the Tullys of the Riverlands and the Arryns of the Vale. I befriended the Tyrells and the Red Viper’s daughter. House Martell and House Tyrell have young, unwed sons who might be viable suitors for Queen Daenerys. But they won’t trust her if she murders her nephew and an innocent young woman who came to offer her an alliance. If she ever wishes to win the Iron Throne, she doesn’t dare harm us.”

“And I have no intention of claiming it for myself,” Jon says darkly, “I have promised her that on paper, and intend to swear my allegiance to her when I arrive. Allied with us, she will arrive in Westeros supported by three great Houses at the least, with an heir already, and connections to two more Great Houses.”

Ned shakes his head. “Then why not simply use all of these connections for yourself? Why endanger yourself by involving the Dragon Queen?”

“Because she has dragons, and because of what is coming.”

“And what is coming?”

Jon and Sansa look at one another uneasily.

“The Others, Father,” Sansa whispers, “The Others are coming. And we need to seize the Iron Throne and unite Westeros as easily as possible, and we need the sort of legendary power that dragons can give us.”

Ned shakes his head, looking at his lap. “You’re all mad. All of this is madness. Even if this were true…” He looks up at Jon, glaring at him, “Why this? Why marry Sansa? Why not wed Daenerys yourself? You may not be related to the Tullys and Arryns, but your cousins are. Why take the risk of being Daenerys’s rival and drawing the ire and vengeance of the Baratheons and Lannisters this early by marrying my daughter? How could you?”

Jon stands. “Don’t,” he says, his voice choked. Ned notices the trembling fist his daughter grabs. “You lied to me for years. You were prepared to sell Sansa off to that… Monster. Even after the Trident. Even after I kept warning you. Even after seeing how she reacted to her blood. I wed her for a thousand reasons. I wed her to keep her safe. To separate us all from the Lannisters once and for. And I married her because I love her.”

Ned takes a deep breath. “Jon, I understand wanting to keep your sister safe, but—“

“She isn’t my sister! She is my wife!”

Ned shuts his mouth at this, staring at Jon in amazement. Sansa rises and places a hand on Jon’s shoulder. She leans over and whispers something in his ear. Jon closes his eyes and mouths something. Once he regains his composure, he opens his eyes and gives Ned the most terrifying look Eddard has ever seen. But his voice is low and measured as he speaks.

“How would you understand such a thing? You failed at keeping your sister safe. I’m living proof of that. You failed at protecting your daughters.” After this, Jon takes another shuddering breath, and his tone becomes angrier. “You killed Sansa’s wolf just to appease your great friend Robert Baratheon, who sat by and relented at the slaughter of Lady, at the corpses of my half-siblings! You ignored me, ignored everything around you, and kept being manipulated… If it weren’t for Bran and the rest of us, you’d have embroiled all of Westeros in a terrible war with your foolishness. Your supposed sense of honor. All while you’ve been lying to us all for years!”

“I did it to—“

“—Protect us?” This time it is Sansa who cuts in. “What was going to happen if someday, somehow, Robert found out? If the Lannisters found out? Do you really think they’d believe that Mother had no idea? That we had no idea? You even lied to Mother. If she had known, at the very least, she might have been able to make plans in case that ever happened. You could have worked together. You could have made things a little easier on her, on Jon. Instead you let that lie rot away in our home, leaving us ignorant and always unprepared for what could come. How was that protecting us? How was not telling Jon, even when he was bound for the Wall and could have been out of Robert’s grasp, protecting him? Letting him suffer like that? Or not telling him when he was actually in the Red Keep itself, within arm’s reach of Robert should he ever discover the truth?! Did you really think that if we had no idea, Robert would be merciful?! The man who said nothing when presented with the corpses of Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen?!”  
“He forgave—“

“—The Tyrells and Martells, yes. But they didn’t betray him personally.” Sansa hangs her head.

“Sansa, why didn’t you ever tell me?” Ned asks. “About Joffrey.”

She looks up again. “I did. That day. On the Trident. I told you what happened between him and Arya. And what did you do? You paraded me out in front of Joffrey and the royal court to call the violent future king you promised me to a bullying, sadistic liar. No talk of ending things, of sending me home. No, you put me right there to accuse the future husband you chose for me. And after that… I kept telling myself that I was wrong. That no, Joffrey couldn’t possibly be a monster. You’d never continue to have me bound to a boy who would do what Arya and I told you about. I even fooled myself into remembering it differently, thinking it was Arya’s fault. I even convinced myself that it was her fault you killed Lady, that you had no choice because of her. That you were blameless. That you hadn’t doomed me. I couldn’t possibly be promised to some violent, lying monster. No. That couldn’t happen to me!”

She looks so much like Cat now, blue eyes alight with rage and determination.

“And for a while, after that, he acted so gallant. And I felt so… Off. I felt so altered, changed, out of sorts. It was so hard for me to think clearly. So I convinced myself everything was fine. Then, Joffrey started growing cruel again and I thought I was at fault. And I spoke to Jon, because Arya always went to him with her problems. And Jon said it wasn’t my fault and went to speak to you. And you didn’t do anything, so I was certain Jon was wrong for a while. That it was my fault and that all I would really have to tell you was how I was failing at being a proper lady to the husband you’d chosen for me, possibly endangering your friendship with the king and our families’ alliance with my stupidity. I was ashamed of myself. It was only after so much time with Jon… seeing how he was with me, listening to what he had to say, that I began to realize it wasn’t my fault.

“Then Bran’s revelations came and… I had to face the facts. You’d lied to us all of these years. You weren’t listening to Jon. You killed Lady. I didn’t believe for a second you’d listen to me. And I feared that if I did tell you, instead of doing something, you might send Jon away, or start watching us or something. I preferred to work with Jon and Bran and Robb and Mother. I couldn’t go to you for safety. I went to you once, you decided to expose me, then agreed to kill Lady. You killed my wolf. Lady was part of me. All of our wolves are part of each of us. Or were, in my case. You killed a part of me.”

She shrinks back now, as if exhausted. For a second, she turns away, hugging herself.

Ned realizes there are tears running down his eyes. Every word is like a blade in the gut. His little girl was suffering and afraid, in danger, and she blamed herself. And she thought—- knew, Eddard admit to himself— that she couldn’t trust him. And the worst part was, as wrong as she was ever to think herself culpable in all of this, she was just as right not to trust him. She was right. He’d bound her to Joffrey, by word and law, knowing full well how dangerous his family was, and, after hearing how dangerous the boy himself could be, made her walk out in front of the lad and his poisonous mother and call Joffrey a liar and a monster. All while still bound to be his wife someday. And he killed her wolf. It had been a wolf that had saved Arya from Joffrey that day. And Ned agreed to kill Lady, because of Robert. He’d asked his daughter to endanger herself with no means of reassuring her, then killed the one protector she could trust. And he’d continued to ignore Jon.

She’d been right not to trust him.

If he’d known how Joffrey treated her, what would he have done? Would he have broken the betrothal? Reflecting on his actions, he can’t even be sure. Things were still so tense with Robert over Daenerys. He still suspected the Lannisters and was determined to prove what happened to Jon Arryn.

Perhaps he would have lied to himself the way Sansa lied to herself. He’d have told himself that no, he couldn’t have possibly, truly betrothed his daughter to a monster. He’d never do such a thing. He loved Sansa too much to be so negligent. So obviously, he hadn’t. He’d convince himself it was a misunderstanding, perhaps. Or convince himself that he could fix the situation some other way.

Meanwhile, his little girl, barely four-and-ten now, was so petrified that she preferred plotting a coup to telling him the truth.

And now, all of his lies and mistakes were staring right at him.

“Sansa, I’m so sorry. That you felt you had to resort to marrying Jon—“

“Resort?!” She snorts, looking up at him, fury blazing in her eyes once more. “No, don’t speak of what I’ve done or how I’ve felt like you know. Ever since Lady was killed, a piece of me has been missing. Speak to any of them. Speak to Bran about Summer, Rickon about Shaggydog, Jon about Ghost, Robb about Grey Wind. Even Arya still feels connected to Nymeria after being separated for so long. They all literally see through their wolves’ eyes. Those beasts are a part of them. I’m the only one who has that piece missing. And the only time I’ve felt complete, felt like I am fine the way I am, felt like I didn’t have to apologize, felt like I’m not lacking, felt safe, is when I’m with Jon. I could have run off with whomever I wished, Father. I married Jon because I love him and he loves me! I didn’t resort to anything. I reached higher.”

Ned gapes at her. “Even though he was your—?”

Jon sighs. “You know, I always wondered why Sansa and I weren’t as close as I was with the others. Why she always, always called me ‘half-brother’ while the others called me ‘brother’ from time to time.

“I told myself it was because she was a snob. That I didn’t care as much for her either. Or told myself I didn’t. All while always noting how pretty she looked, always considering whatever she might have to say on the subject of women sacred, even though I always dreamed of a life without women, on the Wall, even though I told myself that I thought she was stupid. I listened to everything she ever told me about girls and made sure to remember it, even though by every logic it never should have mattered to me. Perhaps a part of me always knew, deep down. Perhaps it was because she looked so much like the mother that wasn’t mine. Perhaps it’s my Targaryen blood. All I know is, in King’s Landing, we found in each other everything you kept from us. Even before Bran wrote to us… I started feeling less like a bastard, more like I belonged, whenever Sansa showed that she trusted me. Whenever I got to help her.

“And when the news came… I grew up seeing Rhaegar Targaryen as a vicious rapist who kidnapped, violated, and killed Lyanna Stark. As far as I knew, I was a shameful secret and a product of a horrific crime. The only person who helped me through it, see good in myself after that, was her. I figured out who I am thanks to her, accepted it thanks to her. I belong to something thanks to her, truly belong, fully. She gave me something other than shame, doubt, and loneliness. I always felt, being the stain upon your honor, the barrier between you and your wife, the threat and misery of Lady Catelyn, that I could only ever sacrifice and suffer to be more than a bastard and a creature of shame, to belong somewhere and be more than a mistake. After I found out who I truly am, all it told me was that I was the product of a violation that also spawned a war and countless deaths. You can’t imagine what that feels like. You were content to let me freeze to death on the Wall, believing myself the blemish upon your honor and your family. Shameful and disposable at best. The only reason I’m able to see myself as more is because of her.”

Ned puts his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Jon. I never meant to hurt you. Either of you. I’m so sorry.”

He loathes himself. All this pain, and so much more. He thinks of Catelyn. He thinks of all her pain, her fear, her tension with Jon. Neither of them deserved it. He thinks of Robb. He thinks of Bran, Rickon, and Arya. Will any of them be able to trust him again? He’s failed them all. Just like he failed Lyanna.

“Write a letter to Daenerys Targaryen swearing your loyalty to her,” Jon says, “Bend the knee when she arrives. In the meantime, go back to Winterfell, store up food, set up infirmaries, do everything you can to get us prepared for war. Do as we ask. The Others are coming. We must prepare.”

“We want you to be a part of this, Father,” says Sansa, sounding weary and sad, “Don’t hate us, please…”

He looks at her. “I could never, would never, hate you, Sansa. Nor you, Jon. Never. I hate myself.”

She sits on the bed and reaches out, cupping his cheek. “Don’t. I’m sorry I yelled. You didn’t know. I still… If you can forgive us, if you can give us your blessing… I just want you to be happy for us, believe in us.”

“What should it matter what an ignorant, incompetent fool like me believes or approves of?” Ned says wildly. “I think we’ve proven my opinion counts for nothing.”

“It counts to me, Father. Please, give us your blessing. I don’t want to leave Westeros without it.”

He takes her hand and looks at each of them. “Of course you have it. I’m proud of you.”

Sansa’s face lights up in that way it used to as a child. The way he’s only seen a few scant times over the last three years. And now that he reflects, those few scant times only happened when Jon was present. But a single, happy tear falls from her left eye.

“In a couple of years, when the wars are over… It’ll be spring again and I’ll bring your grandbabe or babes to Winterfell, I promise. They’ll probably look like you, too. I’m your daughter, Jon’s your nephew and he looks just like you. We’ll bring them often. I don’t want my children to spend too much time in King’s Landing. I want their childhoods to have as much of the happiness you and mother gave us in Winterfell as possible.  We’ll all be together, and more than we were. I promise, Father. I love you.”

They embrace, weeping. But when they break apart, Jon’s near the bedchamber door, his expression conflicted. “Sansa, we have to go. There’s much more to arrange before we leave for White Harbor.”

Sansa nods, and tells her new husband to wait outside, then squeezes Ned’s hand. “He’s got more to heal, but he will come back to you. I promise.”

“Sansa…” Ned finds himself asking his daughter, since it appears she is the one who would know, “Did he really feel so alone? So ashamed?”

He’d tried so, so hard to make sure Jon felt as loved as possible.

She looks sad. “Sometimes, yes,” she whispers, “But he doesn’t doubt that you love him. He’s got so much to process now, though. So much is ahead of us. So much has changed, for him especially.”

“I’m just glad he has you, then.”

His daughter smiles once more. “I’m happy to hear you say that. But, as such… I must go. My place is with him, by his side, Father.”

“Go,” he says, with some reluctance.

She kisses his forehead and pulls away slowly, heading for the door. Ned watches her go, and he finds himself breathless. For he sees it now.

His little girl is no longer a child.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to send me prompts, please message me on tumblr at wendynerdwrites.tumblr.com


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